


You're not Broken

by championofnone



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, F/M, ace!warden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:36:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championofnone/pseuds/championofnone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aren doesn't understand why she doesn't feel the way other apprentices seem to. The physical acts have never held any appeal for her. She's accepted that something inside her was broken; or, she thought she'd accepted it.</p><p>Then she met Zevran, and regrets what she cannot give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're not Broken

It started when she noticed a few other mages in the tower disappearing for short bursts of time, never a large group, but always in pairs. She never understood why, but she was grateful to see them in passing afterwards; too many mages disappeared, and it was usually permanent. 

Aren once asked Jowan how the summons had gone when he once disappeared for a half hour’s time; she only got a bewildered look in return. “Summons?” he repeated, “There was no summons.”

The elven mage blinked. “Then why do people keep disappearing for periods? That doesn’t make much sense.”

Her friend laughed. “You’ll understand in time.” She shrugged, and figured that he was right, being a handful of years older than her. 

It continued when one night Aren asked her only friend why several of the other mages found kissing and physical intimacy so interesting. She knew why they found the secluded corners by now, and was a frequent lookout for templars with her distinctive red wisp, but still saw no point in the activity. It seemed pointless when time was better devoted to becoming stronger and trying not to blow up focus objects. 

Jowan looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and offered to show her. They kissed, only once, and were near immediately horrified; the closest they could describe the feeling to was like kissing a sibling. Aren ran. 

Jowan found her an hour later in the lavatory, bar of soap shoved into her mouth and a look of mild terror on her face. He laughed so hard she thought he was going to faint.

Aren hexed his hair pink for the next week. 

After the failed escape, the failure to help her friend, and resigned to a live as a Warden, Aren stopped thinking about it completely. It came up once, sitting across the fire from Morrigan, when the apostate told tales of her adolescence in the Kocari Wilds; the golden mirror of her childhood, the calm of becoming another being, her trysts when she so desired them. Morrigan asked her of her own tales, of anything worthwhile; the redhead shared the tale of her conscription into the Wardens, and that she never saw a point in sharing her bed with another, and she never had a desire to do so. 

Morrigan agreed it was practical, at least. It was not the response the Warden had become used to; at Kinloch Hold, quite a few considered her childish for it, or too immature. Most just shrugged her off as a ‘late bloomer.' 

At this point, Aren was starting to think that instead of blooming, whatever it was had already withered and died. 

She and Alistair talked about things, once. “I was raised by the Chantry,” he said, “It wasn’t exactly common for things like that to happen.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be happening in the Circle, either, but it was as common as changing clothes,” she replied. “Never did see the point.”

“To what?” he smirked. “Changing your clothes?” She shoved him in the rib with her elbow, rolling her eyes as the music from Leliana’s lute floated by a few tents away. They were both quiet for a moment. “So you’ve never licked a lamppost in winter?”

Aren blinked. “That’s…one way to put it. No, I haven’t. Haven’t done anything else, either.”

“Neither have I. Wanted to, but the Chantry says the Maker looks down on that,” he said, leaning back on his arms and stretching out. “Doesn’t mean you can’t take care of things, though.”

She looked at him, confusion written all over her face for a few moments before turning as scarlet as her hair. “I - Maker, Alistair, what is  _wrong_  with you?" 

He laughed as she sputtered off, happy for having embarrassed his friend. "It’s natural!”

’ _It isn’t if it's never crossed your mind_ ’ she thought, but said nothing, shaking her head and standing to return to her tent. Baron followed her inside, large muzzle nudging at her hip. Sten could take first watch tonight. 

Then, she met the Antivan Crow. Aren hadn’t met many elves outside of the few in the tower since early childhood with her cousins, and Zevran was a welcome respite from that. They grew close, to Alistair’s annoyance; both were stubborn, both proud, and both half-Dalish. She tentatively responded to his flirting, and allowed him into her tent one night.

She couldn’t stop shaking, and Zevran stopped, her tunic still on and well-secured, his shirt off but belt still buckled. He asked what was wrong, perhaps it was him or bad timing? Should they try again another day?

And she told him everything. That she never wanted to see another body naked, that she never desired that kind of intimacy, that the thought of joining together with another make her ill in the pit of her stomach. That everyone she asked said it would just happen eventually, but it never did. That she was broken, useless as a woman and as a lover.

Zevran tsked at her last statement, sitting cross-legged from her now, and tucked a strand of hair behind her long ear. “My Warden, there is no one way to be, to exist. The physical pleasures this world offers are wonderful indeed, but they are not for everyone. I have met a few who are like you, and they have all achieved grand things. It makes you no lesser.”

She slipped her fingers in between his, surprised but grateful that he didn’t simply brush her off. She expected him to after hearing of the number of men and women he had been with, that he would want what she could not give him.

Instead, he simply tugged her closer, whispering to her, and pulled a blanket around them, falling asleep with the sounds of the fire outside and the snuffling mabari just outside the tent.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to be okay, she thought as she drifted off to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was very personal to write. A bit of feelings about my own sexuality bled into my Surana quite thoroughly, and she handles it about as well as I did, but with the bonus of having an accepting partner. 
> 
> Check out AVEN if you have any questions about asexuality, they have a pretty good FAQ section.


End file.
